


False Alarm

by CelticKnot



Series: Mass Effect Fictober 2019 [10]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types
Genre: Fictober 2019, Gen, MEFFictober2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-07 23:09:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20983922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelticKnot/pseuds/CelticKnot
Summary: MEFFictober Prompt: Mad house. Expands on the events Thane describes in Chapter 11 of "Prayers for the Wicked." Security is failing at Matriarch Erissana's gala dinner, and Faella, the captain of her guard, scrambles to pick up the pieces before it's too late.





	False Alarm

Faella let out a long, weary breath as the door closed behind her. She hated days like today. But as the captain of Matriarch Erissana’s guard, it fell to her to both run security for events such as tonight’s gala, and to head up the Matriarch’s personal bodyguards. It meant she had to be on high alert for the entire day, which was frankly exhausting.

Fortunately, though, it was almost over. The gala had gone off without a hitch--barring one anomalous reading from the perimeter sensors--the Matriarch was safe in her chambers, and all that was left to do was one last sweep of the building before should could sound the all-clear and send everyone home. Her reports could wait until morning.

But no sooner had she gotten ten paces from the Matriarch’s door than her radio crackled to life.  _ “Captain Faella, Lieutenant Zensha reporting. Looks like a false alarm.” _

Faella frowned. “A false alarm? I saw those sensor readouts myself!”

_ “I know, but there’s nothing here. Not so much as a footprint.” _

“Damn it,” Faella muttered under her breath. She could feel her adrenaline starting to spike again, despite her exhaustion. “Get back to the security office. Lieutenant Hastar, run a diagnostic on the perimeter systems. I want to know if they’ve been hacked.”

_ “Yes, Captain,”  _ said Zensha.

Silence on the channel.

“Hastar, do you copy?” Faella snapped. “Acknowledge your orders, Lieutenant!”

When there was still no answer, her gut twisted and her heart began to race. Something had happened. Something bigger than a sensor glitch. “Zensha, when you get to the office, see if you can—”

_ “I-I’m here, Captain,”  _ another voice broke in, stammering. _ “Private Anina reporting. They’re all dead!” _

“What?” Faella demanded. She struggled not to panic as the entire evening’s security fell apart around her. “Who’s dead, Private?”

_“Lieutenant Hastar, and-and Sergeants Janei and Kianann. They’ve been shot!”_

Faella swore. More reports were pouring in--Sergeant Melinoe in the armory had also been killed, and her weapon was missing. Random doors were sealed. Minor alarms were going off everywhere. Within minutes, her perfectly orchestrated system had become a madhouse. She fought to keep her voice calm as she spoke with Anina. “Okay, Private, I need you to look around. Notice every detail. Is there anything else out of place?”

_ “Um…”  _ Anina clearly fought the same battle, with much less success.  _ “Not really… n-nothing important? I mean, the cover is gone from the air duct, but…” _

The air ducts? “Damn it, they could be anywhere!” Faella drew her sidearm and checked the heat sink. “All personnel, intruder alert! My team will evacuate the Matriarch; everyone else,  _ find them!” _

But the door to the Matriarch’s chambers refused to open, even for her security override. Within, she heard sounds of a scuffle, and someone--not the Matriarch--cried out in pain. Faella’s hands shook as she hacked into the lock.  _ Please, Goddess, don’t let me be too late! _

Finally, the door slid open, and she and her team burst through. They were just in time to see that drell Erissana had greeted at the gala, the one who’d claimed to represent a tech company Faella had never heard of, leap back into the ventilation shaft and disappear. Her commandos sprayed the ceiling with armor-piercing rounds, but it was impossible to tell if they hit him or not.

Faella swore again, her face warming with humiliation. Erissana would surely have an earful for her. “Matriarch, are you…” she looked around, but the room appeared to be empty. “Matriarch?”

“Over here,” said one of the commandos dully.

Behind the large sofa, Erissana lay on the floor, her hands neatly folded over her stomach, her head twisted at a sickening angle.

Faella could only stare in horror, too shocked to feel any grief or anger or much of anything else. All she could do was wonder how she’d failed so completely. The Matriarch was dead. On her watch. And she’d never seen it coming.


End file.
